Deus Ex: Fall into Grace: Part 1 Data Link.
" Has subject SJ117 exhibited any change in condition?" The Doctor asked as the two of them walked down the corridor toward a plain metal door, with no markings to distinguish it from all the others except the code 'SJ117' printed in chipped white letters above the handle.
"I'm afraid not Sir." The nurse said, pushing a button that brought the small monitor, mounted on the wall next to the door, online. On the screen a man sat in tattered cloths, rocking gently back and forth on the floor. The doctor reached forward and turned the sound up.
"Processing, processing, processing…" The man kept repeating.
"No, change." The doctor agreed. "Not a damn thing."
They both looked up startled as the man became silent, for the first time in months he stopped muttering. Then he looked up at the camera, "I know." He said. "I know everything."
The two men just looked at each other in astonishment.
"I know!" He screamed and threw himself at the door.
* * *
Walton Simons sat opposite Bob Page as the holo-com came online.
"Mr Page, Mr Simons." The figure nodded in greeting. "We have a problem." He paused to let the implication sink in.
"What?" Page demanded. "Is it the Primary unit?"
"No sir, nothing to do with that." The figure shook his head. "There is a problem at Acheron, its SJ117."
"What happened?" Simons asked.
"As far as we can tell it has managed to overcome the information overload, and from what we were able to glean it can access all of that information."
"That puts us in a predicament." Page steepled his figures on the desk. "Can it be contained?"
"The subject has taken control of the facility."
"He must be terminated." Page snapped. "It is too grate a liability, what if he tells someone of what we are planning. I'll lead a team into the facility to take him down."
"No." Page shook his head; "I need you to supervise the shipment and release of the toxin in Washington. We must move onto stage two as soon as possible. We'll send the primary unit to do it. It would prove a good test of its loyalty."
Simons pushed the chair back rising. "I'll make the arrangement." He said getting up to go.
* * *
Paul Denton walked into the wood furnished office of Joseph Manderly. "You asked to see me sir?" He said resting his hands on the back of the metal chair.
"Yes, there has been a breakout on Acheron, we believe there are hostages, one of the internees has broken out."
"You need me to capture a criminally insane person?" Paul asked.
"Not capture terminate." Maderly corrected handing him a file. "Here is the Intel we have, your pilot is waiting for you topside. Get going."
Without another word Paul walked out, and stopping of in his office to pick up an extra battery for his taser went to meet the pilot.
"Where to this time?" Mark, the copper pilot asked as Paul clambered into the blacked out stealth chopper.
"Acheron." Paul said simply, strapping himself in. Mark just razed his eyebrows at their destination, knowing better than to press the issue with Paul in this mood.
"They want another kill." He made it a statement, not wanting to pressure Paul. There was no answer, Mark turned to regard his passenger in the small space the heli provided. Paul just nodded.
* * *
"Last stop Acheron mental asylum for the criminally insane. Pleas remember to take all firearms with you when exiting the aircraft." Mark said as they touched down on the compounds helipad. "Good luck mate, I'll be back when your done." As he took off Mark noticed that Paul he left the stealth pistol on the seat, in the heli.
Paul nodded and clambered out of the chopper.
Paul stood the pouring rain on the helipad, in seconds he was drenched, he looked up at the black grey walls of the Asylum, flood lights illuminated the helipad and made him a good target for any snipers, on those imposing walls.
"Alex you there?" He whispered, as he ducked into the shadows.
"We got a good connection, I'm here." Alex voice held only a slight tinge of static as it was projected directly into his brain. "I'll keep an eye on you."
He found an air vent and managed to prise the cover off with his field issue combat knife, and pushed himself inside.
* * *
Simons stood on the dockside watching the MJ12 troops load containers of the toxin into lorries, as soon as they were done, they would head for Washington, and have a small accident, not enough to spread suspicion, but the toxin would be released, and within a week Washington would be infected.
As he watched one of the palettes slipped of the forklift, faster than humanly possible he jumped off the crate and dashed over to the palette, luckily none of the containers had broken. Grabbing the tech from the drivers seat he threw him onto the asphalt.
"What the hell do you think you are playing at?" Simons yelled at him. "If one of those had broke we would all have been infected!"
The man, Jacob lay stunned on the ground as Simons bellowed at him, it was now or never. Either way his cover was blown. He flicked his wrist and the mini crossbow unfolded, he aimed the poisoned dart at Simons. Already guards were running over to stop him. They managed to open fire before him, the dart took him in the neck. His head lolled back, and he stared up into the starry night sky.
"Damn NSF!" Page said. "Get him out of here." He ordered the knot of troops. "And someone get this mess cleaned up! Now!"
* * *
Paul kicked the vent cover off and looked both ways before dropping down into the corridor, his mini crossbow aimed at the empty corridor, his crossbow held tranquilliser darts. Moving silently, thanks to his augmentations, he crept down the corridor. At the end of the corridor there was a doorway, the door lay splintered on the floor next to it. He stepped through and into what looked like a canteen.
Above him there was a shriek like some sort of hyena and a gangly man dropped on him.
"Flesh!" He cried trying to bite into Paul's neck.
"Get off me you freak." Paul gasped, as he struggled under the gangly thing that had driven him to his knees when it had dropped on top of him. He was struggling to keep the man, if you could call it that, away from his neck. The man got one of those incredibly thin arms around his upper body to hold him still. Taking his only chance, Paul pressed the mini crossbow to the bend of his arm, about where a doctor took blood, and squeezed the trigger.
The dart slammed into the man's arm and shrieking he pushed Paul away. Paul stumbled and turned, the dart had gone clean through the arm, that had to hurt, he squeezed of another dart into the man's neck, and he collapsed as the tranquilliser took hold.
* * *
Mark has set the chopped down on a UNATCO owned oilrig, converted to refuel its vehicles. As the techs got on with refuel his chopper he wandered off to have a fag. Eventually he settled for a small covered walkway where he could light up out of the driving rain. He pulled a fag from the packet and began rooting around in his pockets for a lighter. An older man approached, he was wearing a black coat and trousers, and his grey hair was slicked back, Mark paid him little attention, still looking for his lighter.
"Need a light?" The man asked. Leaning on the old rusty railing. Mark didn't notice him pulling out a slender knife.
"Year, you got one?" Mark said stepping forward. The other man turned, and in a fluid movement shoved the knife between his ribs, Mark tried to cry out, but the other's had covered his mouth.
The greying man tipped the UNATCO pilot over the railing into the swirling waters. "The fags 'ill kill you." He said, pulling the small silver lighter with 'Mark best wishes Paul.' Engraved on the side, from his pocket and throwing it in after it's owner.
* * *
"You did fucking what?" Page yelled at the holo of Walton Simons, who flinched at the barrage.
"We took the NSF spy into custody." Simons repeated. Page stalked round the circular conference table that the holo-com was mounted in the centre of.
"Why?" He barked.
"I intend to extract as much information as possible from him, before he outlives his usefulness." Simons tried to sound reasonable.
"Ok, but how prey did he manage to get into such a sensitive operation?"
"I don't know, but I am looking into it personally, if there is a leak I will find it and plug it."
Simons terminated the com channel and turned to the Chinook pilot.
"Are we within range?" He asked, the pilot nodded, pointing to the convoy of trucks that held the toxin, they were on the outskirts of DC, it was the best time to spring the trap, if they were to infect the city.
He went to the back of the Chinook, as the helicopter overtook the convoy. One of the troops, dressed in the NSF uniform, sat in the driver's seat of a truck; the truck had a crate of explosives in the back.
"So, I just leave it in the path of the convoy? Right?" He asked, looking up at Simons.
"Not quite." Simons pulled a stealth pistol from under his coat and shot the driver. He calmly walked over to the control penile and opened the main door of the helicopter; they were only a couple of feet above the road. Reaching into the car Simons locked the accelerator down a stepped aside as it accelerated out the back of the helicopter, and into the convoy.
Back in the Chinook, Simons walked into the cockpit, and shot the pilot, who was also dressed as NSF, as the helicopter pitched downward he clambered into the co-pilot's chair and levelled it out. Reaching down he turned on the radio.
"Echelon airbase, this is Field Operative 12, I have taken control of an NSF helicopter, request permission to land."
* * *
Paul hadn't encountered anyone since the gangly cannibal; the whole place seemed really creepy. He started down a corridor, there were two people lying against the wall, he checked for their pulses. Nothing, one was a doctor, the other looked like a nurse. Bouth had, had their necks broken. He turned toward the door, opposite, SJ117. So that was his room. Paul rose and continued down the corridor. Toward the end, he found a door labelled radio room. When he tried to open the door, it stuck only a couple of inches open; he could see enough to know that there was a body blocking the door.
"I can't hear the voices, I need to access. I know everything. You can't stop me. I know everything. Must uplink." The figure that spoke was wearing a dirty brown, gown with blood, and other stains covering it, but was clean-shaven; and he seemed to be taking the radio to bits.
Paul tried to force the door further, but to no avail.
"I don't know what he's trying to do, but it can't be good. There should be an access vent just a bit farther up. You could use that to get in." Alex voice crackled into his head.
Nodding he dashed to the vent and kicked the vent cover in, and began crawling in.
The vent in the radio room came off after the first strike of Paul's foot, and he slipped out the vent. The other man had pulled one of the interface jacks from the com set. When Paul looked at the man he stopped dead, the man had managed to cut the side of his head open, as he watched rooted to the spot the man shoved the connecter into his temple, there was a slight smell of ozone and the man sank to the floor, he eyes closed, Paul thought he was dead until he let out a small contented breath.
"Accessing, accessing." He muttered
"Paul, you are not going to believe it, but he has managed to neural connect to the net, through the facility's sat uplink." Alex said.
"Jesus." Paul breathed. He looked over to the monitor, pages and pages of text scrolled across it.
"Look." The man's strangled voice brought Paul's attention back to him. "Look!"
Paul looked at the screen, wiping a blood stop from the corner; it was information about Bob Page.
* * *
Page looked at the screen over the tech's shoulder. It had information about him, Simons, the Helios project, MJ12, everything that he had worked so hard to keep secret!
"Stop him!" Page yelled at the tech.
* * *
Paul looked at the info, but it seemed fragmented, he couldn't make it out, something about area 51, and something called Icarus.
"You must believe." The man crocked.
* * *
"Mr Page, sir, I might be able to overload the system and shut it down." The tech said.
"Will that kill him?" Page asked.
"Probably."
* * *
"Transmit, must transmit." The man said, to Paul. "Transmitting."
Suddenly the console erupted into sparks and blue electrical arches came out of the neural link and covered the man. As soon as it had died down Paul ran to check his pulse, but he was dead, and the computer had been destroyed, the information, whatever it had been was gone. But the last thing that had come up stuck in Paul's mind.
"UNATCO LIES. NSF TROUTH."
What could it mean?
* * *
Paul ran though the rain and jumped into the chopper.
"Mr Denton, glad to finally meet you." The pilot said.
"Wait, where's Mark?" Paul asked, suddenly concerned.
"He couldn't be here." The pilot said cryptically.
Paul jumped forward, pressing the stealth pistol the man's neck. "Who are you, and where is Mark?"
"Look, mark was called off on another assignment, I'm Jock, I'll be your pilot until further notice." Jock said. "Now can we get going, Manderly wants you back at HQ."
Paul settled back, into his chair as the heli took off.
After a couple of minutes, Paul broke the uncomfortable silence. "Jock, what do you know about the NSF?"
"The NSF, you gotta love all these acronyms. It stands for North-west Socialist Faction; they've been around a while, they aren't really bad people, they just want to insure that everyone gets a fair chance at life." Paul gaped at this, he couldn't believe what he was hearing; this man was pro NSF. "Ok their methods aren't always the best, but they their gaols are good. They've come into their own with this new virus that seems to be working its way around the contrary, you know the Grey Death."
Paul nodded.
* * *
Bob Page looked at the maturation chamber, it was nearly ready, the second unit. He would be integrated, they already had memories worked out for him, and the Primary, they were going to set them up as brothers, so Paul would need implanting as well.